Reaching
by Death Quaker
Summary: Shiori tries to puzzle out Jury and past and future relationships with her. Shiori's POV. REVISED.
1. For the Sky

[Author's Notes: Yes, there's a million stories about Shiori and Jury. So one more can't hurt, right? I tried to make it a good one. I had a lot of fun writing this, and did it primarily for the challenges of 1) Trying to divine the motives of Shiori, who may be mostly a bit character but is an interesting one, and 2) trying to remember what is was like to be sixteen. I have learned that 1) Shiori's head is a fascinating if often highly irrational, confused, and frustrating place to be, and 2) I am incredibly thankful that, at least in this lifetime, I will never ever be sixteen again. This stream-of-consciousness narrative begins at the end of episode 29 and concludes at the end of/shortly after episode 39 (the final episode). Warning: there will be some spoilers, for those of you who haven't seen the whole series yet.

Notes Addenda: This is now a revised version. Thanks very much to those of you at fanfiction.net who offered such nice comments, praise, and criticism. Nothing has hugely changed, just some added description and some minor detail adjustments. Also, the version posted at my Web site now has a couple pictures to accompany it (please see my profile for my Web site URL, as ff.net does not seem to like my posting URLs in my text).

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena and all related concepts and characters are copyright 1997 to Chiho Saito and B-Papas and Shogaku-kan and Shonen Linkai AND TV Tokyo and maybe even other people my DVD didn't mention. This fanfiction is written to provide free entertainment, primarily to myself (and I won't even go blind!), and there's no way in hell I could acquire profit from it. Chapter-specific notes and disclaimers will be found at the bottom of each section.]

Reaching  
by Death Quaker

_There's a torture that I've dreamt of where your lips stay sealed forever  
There's a time that I have dreamt of where you talk to me and it draws us back together  
There's a threat that I will share this and you'll add it to your load as it defects  
I'm looking out my window so I catalogue the sights I see that  
You are looking way ahead and never turn to look at me  
I will write down every detail read them to you make you see  
Is it me that scares you off, or just some ghost of which I'm reminiscent?  
Will there ever be a day that you'll tell me why your past stays present  
in your life?_

It's strange how it's very easy–and yet very difficult–to forgive someone once they're dead. Or very far away. 

Even though he hurt me so badly, I hurt even more when he died... as if I'd lost someone who'd actually cared for me. I did care for him, and it hurt, in so many ways. Part of me, that silly naive part of me, hopes maybe he did care, somewhere. But I guess he did it for her... or himself... or both. And I know I got what I deserved. Maybe he showed her what I really was, but I think she already knew. He did do me the favor of showing me what I really was, and for that I will be grateful, even if it hurts so much. 

I never did like looking in a mirror. 

I wonder if I were dead or very far away, if she would forgive me. 

I think that was my hope the first time, when I returned to Ohtori. Maybe I had been gone long enough, she had forgiven me. 

But she hadn't. 

And I don't understand. 

Even now that I know, I don't understand. And I'm not sure if I forgive her yet either. 

It's funny, after I found her locket, I don't even really remember what happened. I must have been so confused... all I remember are a series of powerful sensations... joy, anger, lust, fear. Lots of fear. I remember gloating at someone... was it Jury or someone else? I remember wanting to destroy the power of miracles, because... I don't know. Because I wanted to destroy any hope she had stored up in that locket along with my picture. Because I wanted to destroy my own hope, because I was already scared and hurting. 

It hurts to try to remember, even more than trying to remember than anything else. I must have been pretty messed up. She got the locket back somehow, anyway. I must have been the one who gave it to her. I wish I could remember what I had said. 

She wore it for awhile, until shortly after Ruka-sempai broke up with me. I think perhaps she and Ruka went together to fight one of those Duels. I wonder what must have happened that someone like Jury lost, but I'm pretty sure that's what happened, because somehow I think she'd be acting differently if she'd won the power of miracles. Besides, Himemiya Anthy is still attached to Tenjou-kun. 

Jury stopped wearing the locket shortly after that. Maybe she's over me. Isn't that wonderful? Shouldn't I feel wonderful? Why don't I feel wonderful? 

I feel sick. 

I wonder what would have happened if she had won? What would she do with the power of Miracles? 

I believe in miracles, but I never thought you got them because you won a silly sword duel. 

A breeze passes by me, through me, raising goose pimples on my arms. The sun is going down, slowly taking the warmth away from this place. I have been standing by this tree forever. My feet hurt, and there's a icy lump in my stomach. I'm trembling, from the wind or something else. 

The path is lined with zelkovas, slender trees that reach their branches up to the sky like they're longing for something they can never touch. They look so fragile against the wind, and yet they stand there, persisting in their fruitless endeavor. As they reach, they let their leaves abandon them. The wind surrounds me with swirls of red-purple and orange (different types, the same species of tree), the leaves soon to be forgotten mingle at my feet and dance away. 

Quick, staccato footsteps echo down the walkway. I look up, and note with relief and another pang of trepidation that it is she, moving in her long strides toward me. I know she doesn't see me, though–her eyes are downcast, lost in thought. A rare moment when her mask is down. 

Jury always wore the mask–that stony face that can put on a glare capable of turning unwitting fools to stone. The only emotion it displays is icy contempt. The difference is, when I knew her the first time, when we were friends, she wore the mask lightly. She could drop it easily among her friends, when she was with me; she only used it when she had to, to get by this bully or that teacher. 

She wears it almost all the time now, save perhaps an infrequent moment when she spares a real smile for her kohai Miki, or more rarely, for Tenjou-kun, who has a way of slipping past most people's defenses. I envy them. 

And I know I'm the reason she wears it so much. Or at least one of the reasons. 

She breezes by me. Her frown is so intense, as if weights were attached to her face, pulling it downward. What is her burden today? 

In a way, I don't want to bother her. Let her be free of her mask for awhile. Maybe she will remember what it's like to be herself. If I approach her, the mask will raise. 

But I have to follow her. Summoning every ounce of willpower I have, I leave the tree I was leaning against and quickly move to catch up with her, clutching my satchel to my chest as if it were a shield, an aegis capable of deflecting her thunder. 

She does not turn her head, but her pace slows for just a moment, so I fall in behind her steps quickly. I stay just a little bit behind her, maybe because I am afraid to look at her face, in case the mask has returned, and I will be speaking to an angry angelic statue. 

We walk for awhile, and we're almost to the dorms, when she finally turns her head slightly, just enough to indicate that she's addressing me. She speaks in the even, cool tone she uses for acquaintances and enemies. "Is there a reason you're following me, Shiori?" 

All the things I want to say to her have crumbled in my mind under the weight of my fear, all of the apologies and condolences and accusations. I never used to be afraid of her, but now I am like all the others, cringing at that petrifying gaze–and I deserve her wrath more than anyone. Part of me hates myself for being afraid of her, and hates her for making me afraid of her, but I can't get angry at her, not now. I can't afford it. Not after I've already lost so much. But I try to take the energy of that anger and turn it into something like bravery, just enough so I can speak. 

"He was your friend. I'm sorry," is all I manage to stammer out. It's actually been a week since, but she's been keeping herself busy, and so have I. 

She stops, and I stop, and she turns to look at me, full in the face. In a moment comprising something like a tiny, weak miracle, I realize she hasn't put up the mask. Her hurricane-green eyes are shimmering, and I realize there are tears at the corners, which would indicate, if Jury were a normal girl, she'd have been sobbing her eyes out not too long ago. They are old tears, nothing I said brought them. In a weird way, I like seeing her look like this, because she looks human, not like a moving statue or a predatory feline. Her face has a hint of softness, and I am reminded a moment of the beautiful, proud girl I was so close to a few years ago, that girl that made me feel so warm and wonderful. She blinks at me, almost like she thinks I'm crazy. I wonder what she sees in my face? I might be about to cry, myself. 

"Thank you," she says quietly, acknowledging my feeble gesture with a slight nod and an upturn of the lip that could not quite be called a smile. 

Then the mask comes up, and the eyes turn to hard, cold malachite. She turns away, and begins walking again, though more slowly than before. I follow. 

"Is that all you wanted, Shiori?" I am behind her; her back is still turned to me. 

No, of course it isn't. But when have you ever cared about what I wanted? 

I swallow, the new wave of anger striking me so suddenly. I try to hold it back, but it's trying to punch its way through my chest... the part of me that wants to be near her and the part that hates her wrestle yet once again. "Why, Jury-san... why did you come to me that night?" 

Her head tilts downward. "If I remember correctly, it's because I 'suck.'" 

The tension in my heart twinges, the two sides of myself pulling hard, and my face grows warm with embarrassment and anger. "I was... not in a good state then. I'm sorry. Please answer the question." 

"I told you, I was concerned. I thought... you might need someone to talk to." I want to believe her, but she still refuses to look at me, and her voice is still monotone. 

"Why is it, that you'll only be my friend when I'm helpless?" I plead, anger and pride and desperation causing my voice to waver between a snarl and a squeak. 

She begins to walk away in silence. 

Anger wins, bursting through me like a popped water blister, disgusting and relieving. "Don't you dare walk away from me again, Jury!" I snap, the force in my voice startling even me, although I don't let that stop me. I am _tired_ of people walking away from me, leaving me in the dark, leaving me alone. I may not deserve much but I at least deserve to understand why. 

She keeps trying to walk, and the desire to punish her washes over my senses like a tsunami. I grab her arm, trying to pull her around so she'll face me. "What the hell is with you, Jury? I try to start over with you, and you reject me. Then I get close to someone else, and suddenly you're hovering over me like a... a... mother hen... or a... a jilted lover! You move when my defenses are down, waiting for me to fall, waiting for me to be weak and pathetic? Waiting for me to crawl under your wing? Why? Why do I have to be helpless for you to love me?" Even with the hot fury, I feel tears sting my eyes. 

She stops trying to pull away from me. Her eyes catch in mine, and they are quivering darkly and desperately, and I don't know whether she's feeling hatred or hurt or both. A voice inside my mind is pleading for me to shut up, wailing that I'm destroying the last vestige of hope that our closeness might still be salvaged... but Jury's jaw is locked shut, and her reticence spurs on my anger. 

"Are you so pathetic and weak yourself you need someone even weaker to lean on? Or are you just looking for someone gullible to seduce?" 

The confused eyes widen to a turquoise blaze. "How could you think that?" 

"How could I think that? You're the one who carried my goddamn picture in a locket for three years!" Her eyes flinch. Good. I will break that mask open. The tsunami crashes, emptying out of my mouth in a torrent of feelings I can't even keep up with in my mind. "You _wanted_ me, but you never told me... You were _ashamed_, ashamed of your lust, and ashamed of _me_, ashamed that you could feel that way about someone you once just _pitied_. Rather than tell me–god forbid I return those feelings–you just shut yourself off, started growing cold. I _thought_ it was because I was getting in your way, because I _thought_ you wanted to get closer to _him_ instead, and so I did what I thought would punish you by taking away the person you _really_ cared for. And the fact that you let me... means you must not have really cared at all... I was an object to you, a pet, and when I displeased you, you just let me stay in my delusions and leave you. YOU THREW ME AWAY!" I can hardly see for fire and tears. "And, naive little girl I am, I _came back_ to you, admitting what I'd done, tried to start over, and you rejected me again, and then you act all hurt when I try to get on with my life! Well, fuck you, Jury! You selfish obsessed little bitch!" 

I pause for breath and to wonder at the things I'd just said. Tension is released, the wave begins to dissipate. 

Her eyes grew wider all the while I was talking, and now she's simply blinking at me. "Selfish?" is all she says in a whuff of disbelief. 

It's enough to snap my perspective for a moment. Ruka-sempai sneers at me in my mind's eye. _Who_ is selfish? Logic faintly asserts its voice in the back of my mind: perhaps this is not the best route to take. I try to think of something else to say, but I find myself fascinated by the gymnastics of her face, eyes widening and narrowing, mouth opening then closing, and lips narrowing, then opening again. She's struggling to put the mask back on and she can't quite do it, and part of me is still pleased to have the real Jury standing before me, scrambling for her shallow defenses. It's very strange... she's pretty when she looks hurt. Almost as pretty as when she smiles. 

"If... I had told you... how I felt, would you have returned my feelings?" 

"How did you feel?" Cooling down, now I can fully feel the tears course down my face. 

Jury swallows. Her lip trembles. "I..." The words come out as if someone were extracting them one by one, without anaesthetic. "I was in love with you." 

My stomach and heart trade places, and then flip back again. "I... don't know, Jury-san," I answer mostly honestly. "But if you really had wanted... if you had really wanted to really love me, you would have at least tried to find out." 

She says nothing. 

It's time to finish my piece and run, my turn to be a coward and show her my back. My bare facsimile of bravery is fading fast. "You can be mad at me for any reason you want, Jury. You can hate me. You have a million reasons and they're all good. But just remember: you rejected me first." 

Using the remaining angry energy within me, I pivot on my heel and march toward my dormitory. The hot tears fall anew and turn to ice on my cheeks in the wind. I am hating myself because I said things I didn't mean to say, and because I meant every word I said. Her words bounce dizzyingly through my mind: 

_I was in love with you... _

I was in love_ with you... _

I was_ in love with you..._

I want to fall off the ends of the earth and just keep falling. 

[Notes on Part 1: The prefatory lyrics come from the song "Baggage" by Sarah Pinsker and the copyright is held by disappear records. As for Ruka being dead: yes, I realize that's only one interpretation, and not necessarily even the best one. But I found it worked well for this particular fic.] 


	2. For the Shadows

The Duelist smiles at me with white shining teeth that are not sharp and yet like fangs. She points her sword at me in a mock salute. "I will destroy her. I will destroy the power of miracles." 

Vaguely standing between us is the image of a woman in a long fancy dress, eyes glittering with hope and defeat. Her eyes are green, I think, and sad. 

The Duelist lunges, and my sword never moves fast enough, her blade always avoiding my parry, and I see burgundy rose petals fly before me. The force of her stroke knocks me over, and with the sound of metal clattering I make contact with the ground. I can see the Bride collapse to her knees, and the Duelist walks over to her, grabs her by the collar, pulls her up, and plants a kiss upon her mouth, deep, passionate, and harsh. The Bride relents willingly to the kiss, and limply falls to her knees once more when the Duelist releases her. The Victor pulls her sword hand back and then swiftly plunges the blade into the Bride's chest, and, turning even before her victim finishes crumpling to the ground, she saunters over to me. 

The Duelist places the point of her sword at my chest, and I know she is preparing to thrust, pausing only long enough for me to see her eyes gleaming with bitter contempt. They are the coldest, cruellest eyes I have ever seen. 

They are my own. 

***** 

_Twin relationships are the   
capricious, heartless lies of desires   
propagating endlessly in the   
interval between two mirrors.   
Ah, man does not exist.   
Ah, within the darkness   
Ah, the sound of the waves _

Even light casts shadows, making a pair out of me and me.   
Isolation outbreak, that's the reason making a pair out of me and me. 

"Following this theory, the antagonist in a nightmare represents the dreamer's own fears and repressed desires. Some believe this figure, commonly referred to as the Shadow, is the self-destructive aspect of the dreamer's psyche. However, this is not necessarily the case. Krakowsky explains that the Shadow tries to force the dreamer to face his or her unrealized urges and needs, which can ultimately prove helpful to the dreamer when trying to understand oneself–yes, Takatsuki-san?" Yumiwara-sensei raises a grey eyebrow at me as he sees my hand go up. He is a middle aged man with kind eyes and hungry cheeks. 

"I'm sorry, Sensei, but if your Shadow is trying to kill you, I don't see how that's helpful." 

Yumiwara-sensei gives me a patronizingly patient smile. "If a Shadow is 'trying to kill you,' it's more likely it is trying to 'kill' something within you that you are afraid of, or something you dislike within yourself. If you come to terms with your fear, the Shadow may cease haunting you. Oftentimes, you can begin doing this in the dreamscape itself. People who dream they are being chased force themselves to turn around and see what they are running from." He smiles. "Often they see nothing at all. But regardless of what they see, the courage you gain from facing your Shadow you may use to harness when facing your fears in the conscious world. However," the psychology teacher adds, "killing your Shadow outright does not often help. That is, according to this theory, an act of repressing the fear your Shadow represents, and your Shadow will eventually reappear in a different form." Sensei checks his watch. "Read chapter 4 in the text to study this theory of dreams more deeply and write out your answers to the questions at the end. I look forward to next class." Promptly after he finishes his speech, the bell rings. 

Kyoko, who sits behind me, whispers to me as I stand up and pack my books into my satchel. "This dream unit is really weird, don't you think?" 

"Mmm," I agree. "Though it's interesting, at least. Not like the 'parts of the brain' unit at the beginning of the semester." 

Kyoko comes to stand next to me as we start to leave the class. She's a girl a little taller than me (but who isn't?) with straight black hair and unremarkable dark blue eyes, and she's one of the few people who's decided I'm still cool enough to hang out with after my humiliating break-up with Ruka-sempai. She leans closer to whisper to me. "Why is Arisugawa-san staring at you?" 

I glance over to the side of the room, where I see a pair of brooding green eyes meet mine and quickly flicker forward. She walks out of class ahead of us, orange coils of hair bouncing forcefully against her back with her stride. I haven't spoken to her since my little torrent of insults last week, and of course she would never willingly approach me. 

"She's probably trying to scare me," I shrug. "That's what Jury-san does, or so they say." 

"Did you do something to piss her off?" 

I shrug again. "I guess so." 

"I'm glad I'm not in your shoes." 

I raise an eyebrow at my companion, seeing her eyes follow the Council Treasurer as she disappears into the crowded hallway. "You know, I don't think Jury-san is as scary as everyone says she is. She's been mad at me a few times over the years, and she hasn't killed me yet." I try to smile and look brave. I'm not sure I entirely believe myself. 

"You're very brave, Shiori." Kyoko raises an eyebrow at me like I'm insane (although at least she is smiling). 

I laugh. "You really think so?" I look at the crowd ahead of us, trying to catch a glimpse of those curls. "Let's just hope I stay that way if I have to face her." 

***** 

She walks by outside as I am eating my lunch. I'm by myself today, because Kyoko wants to impress someone she has a crush on. Not that Kyoko's particularly interesting conversation anyway– although I shouldn't think that. She is a nice (if ordinary) girl. 

The sun is warm and the wind is cold. I can't taste my food much. 

Nearby, proud footsteps wax and recede and then grow louder again. 

Jury's just been pacing around the schoolyard during lunch. She carries a bento-box wrapped in a white cloth loosely in her hand, as if she's forgotten it's there. She does that thing when she wants to talk to me: she walks a few steps in front of me, then tilts her head downward and back toward me so I can just barely see her face as she speaks. 

"Have you been sleeping well?" She's either taunting me, pretending to be concerned, or she is really concerned. She always does this, as soon as I'm certain I've done something to drive her away, she'll do something to show something approximating compassion or care. Perhaps it's simply in memory of our old friendship. 

How do I answer her? Push her away? Pretend we are friends again? 

"Do I look that bad?" I ask, wiping my face for fear that bits of rice ball are clinging to it, wishing I could wipe away the circles under my eyes. 

She allows herself to laugh briefly. "No... although you do seem tired. You mentioned in class..." 

"Everyone has nightmares sometimes, Jury-san." 

She just barely nods. "True." 

I wonder what her nightmares are like. For a moment, I wonder if they are exactly the same as mine. A sudden image explodes in my mind: I am standing over her, pulling a sword out of her chest, the way I remember doing with Ruka-sempai, except that she is in great pain. I can hear her gasping for air, and feel a great, frightening surge of sadistic joy caused by her agony. For a moment, the image/feeling seems more real than what I am actually seeing before me, and I shudder, trying to shake it off. 

"Are you all right?" She turns her head a little more so I can see beyond her massive curls, and she actually does look worried. She must have seen me tremble. 

Arisugawa Jury, I don't think I will ever understand you. 

"I'm fine." Here I am, lying again. It's just a simple little meaningless lie, yet every time I lie now, I see Ruka's face. It's a very good and very painful and frustrating deterrent. "With a good night's sleep, I should feel a little better." At least I hope so. 

"I hope so," she says quietly, and walks away. 

The mixture of her concern and her avoidance of me only makes me angry. 

Why, Jury? Why do you care? 

***** 

Tonight, when she stabs her, the Bride screams in pain. I try to tell her to fight back, but no sound escapes my lips. 

Yet I wake myself up, crying out. 

I crawl out of bed. I'm wide awake, cold and sticky with sweat. I'm sick of these dreams, and I'm sick of not knowing what to do with them. I've started writing them down as recommended by one of Yumiwara-sensei's suggested readings, but all it seems to do is help me remember them more without helping me figure out what to do, how to change it. Our class textbook is educational analysis, not a self-help book, and has no answers on how to deal with specific dreams. It's just lots of general theories, none of which seem to quite apply to me. Sometimes the dreams seem more like memories than dreams, but of course I've never fought in the Duels myself. 

Have I? 

I am afraid of so many things, I doubt I could ever stand up to my Shadow. And even then, what would I do? I'm not supposed to kill her? 

But what else do you do with a sword in your hand? 

I grab my room key; it's on a long chain that I hang around my neck afterward, and the cold metal prickles againsts my skin. I shuffle out into my dorm hallway. In my mind, I can hear my mother bitching that I'm going somewhere in my pajamas with no shoes on, but who is going to see me at 2 a.m.? She'd only care for the propriety of the situation, anyway. 

I wander outside, the sharp coolness of the air striking the fog over my brain, although weariness fights for dominance. I make my way toward the big fountain in the residential quad. It's always lit, even at the dead of night. 

I can hear the water from here; it is smooth and soothing, and maybe it will eventually talk me into going back to sleep. 

It's not till I'm quite near the fountain that I realize someone is sitting not far away, alongside the granite statues that line the pool. The cold night is biting into my toes; maybe I should turn back. 

She turns her head at my approach. The lights from the fountain bounce off orange curls. "Shiori..." the startled sound slides off her lips. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't... I was just having trouble sleeping." I hope that I am drowsy and drained enough from my dream, so that there is no energy inside me that could allow me to tangle with her tonight. Just let me be here until I have the strength to move, and I will let you be here. 

As I move to sit on the fountain's edge, I see her slowly relax as she lets out a deep breath. I look down at the waters and dip my index finger in them, drawing kanji in the water that slip away into nothing-ripples even as I glide my fingers off the surface. My name. Jury's name. 

"Nightmares again?" She asks after a few moments. I'm not really looking at her, and I don't think she's really looking at me. We let the falling waters carry our words back and forth to one another. 

"My 'Shadow' and I aren't getting along," I say, recalling the term from Intro to Psychology. 

"What's she like? Your Shadow?" 

"She's a Duelist. A fencer." The silence between us electrifies. "She's not you," I add to clarify. 

"Mmm," Jury says unenlighteningly. 

"What about you? Bad dreams?" 

"Bad thoughts." 

"Mmm," I reply. More water-filled silence passes by. Of course I want to know what they are, but I don't dare ask. There's a remote possibility that she'll tell me. 

"Shiori?" Her voice is softer than usual, and reminds me of when she was maybe thirteen. Three years ago. So much can happen in that time. 

"Yes, Jury-san?" 

"Thank you." 

"Why?" 

"For saying those things to me last week." 

"Why?" That has me off guard. "I wasn't... I shouldn't have..." 

"Because you spoke the truth. Your truth, anyway. And I realized, I hadn't thought much about your perspective; I just made a lot of assumptions... just like you assumed I was in love with Miteru." 

There's a strange sensation in my heart, sort of as if it's being wrung out to dry. I can't think of what to say, and my rationalizing side blames it on sleepiness, although my heart says there's more. The thought flashes through my mind: what other assumptions have I made that are wrong? 

An accompanying flash: I once felt like I knew her more than anyone in the world. More than myself. Did I ever really? Why don't I know her now? 

Who are you, Jury? 

After a few more moments of quiet, she speaks again. "One thing... I never... viewed you as an object." 

"Back then... I would have believed you." Actually, I think I believe her now, because for some idiotic reason I still trust her like I did when I was younger. 

Yet, part of me insists upon being suspicious of more. Because _I don't understand_ what else she could feel for something like me. And I hate her for being so weak as to be weakened by _me_ for any reason. 

"And you don't now?" 

"I don't know who you are, anymore, Jury-san. I don't know what to believe. Sometimes I think you've changed beyond recognition." A brief, surprising laugh hmphs its way out of my mouth. "Sometimes I think you haven't changed at all." 

She responds with her own brief chuckle. "You know, Shiori... I think the same thing about you." 

I am speaking without thinking (again) because I am too tired to think. "Maybe we should try to get to know each other again." The words flowed out of a bloom of hope that fades as soon as I finish speaking. Of course we can't get to know each other again. 

I hear her stand, or rather the sound of her robe softly rubbing against her legs and the fountain behind her. "Goodnight, Shiori," she mutters in a low voice. I slowly turn my head to see her back receding into the shadows left by the moon. It seems that's all I ever see of her lately. 

"Damn you," I whisper to her and myself and the water's lullaby. 

[Part II Notes: The song quote is from "Earth as a Character Gallery" (a.k.a. Shiori's Duel Song) and is someone's fan translation of lyrics by J.A. Seazer. The song is copyright the Utena people.] 


	3. For Answers

_Keep looking for the reason high and low to let it go   
Keep losing my mind looking for the peace that I'll never find   
I wanna know how it feels to be the sunlight in your hair and dancing everywhere   
I wanna shout about it, but I keep quiet about it   
I wanna laugh about it, but I don't joke about it   
I wanna live without it, but I can't do without it_

She occupies my thoughts a lot lately. Even more than Ruka-sempai, despite the fact that at the time, it felt like he hurt me worse, and how I still felt awful when he died. 

He did use me, but I guess I used him too... I needed someone to care for me, protect me, because I thought Jury never would any more. He came when I thought I was all alone, because I had lost her. 

Which just brings us back to the fact that it was all about Jury all along. 

I don't know why I can't let go of her. It's obvious she's trying to let go of me. 

But she's trying to let go of me because I betrayed her. Because I tried to betray her. I destroyed our friendship. I pushed her away. 

And now, like a child that's lost or broken something due to her own negligence, I want her back. 

The irony on top of that is, of course, that I did it all to prove I could be strong without her. Independent. 

The cold spell that's hit the area hasn't lifted yet, and I wish I had worn a jacket. This damn sailor-fuku does little to hold off the wind, which bites into me and laughs. 

I had to get off from campus awhile. Not that one can really _leave_ Ohtori just like that... but I can wander far enough to enjoy the more lively comforts of a cemetery. Half-naked trees wave their arms over the tombs, as if to protect them without actually touching them. 

"I wish I could say I've come here just to talk about you," I say to a certain headstone, "but I've really come to talk about her too." 

The stone is cold and doesn't answer me. It's sort of like talking to Jury. 

"I did want to say that I am sorry for using you, or trying to use you, anyway. You have to understand, every girl when they're little hopes for some gallant prince on a white horse to take them away from the horrors of the world and protect them forever. And I really wanted you to be my prince, wielding your shining sword. You were strong, and confident, and protective, and Captain of the Fencing team. And... you were a... a _guy_. And safe." I pause as if waiting for an answer. The wind blows my hair into my eyes. "My mistake for thinking you were trustworthy because you were all those other things. My mistake for trying to make you stand in for my childhood prince. I wanted the miracle power. And I'm sorry. 

"I know you're not sorry for what you did to me, but that's okay, because you're dead. And dead people can't change." 

I begin to pace around to keep myself warm. 

"You probably don't believe me, but I want to change, I really do. But... I guess, I still want the same things. I mean... not the prince thing. That's just... naive. I want to be happy. Is that so wrong? Is it really awful and selfish to just want to be happy? And the last time I was really happy was when I was with her. 

"But it freaks me out, honestly. Did you know her true feelings for me? How did it play a part in your quest to hurt me? But what would you..." 

I trail off, as a thought hits me, and I start to laugh. 

"Were you jealous of me, Sempai?" I ask the stone. I shake my head. "No, that's silly. Even if Jury loved me once... I don't know. They said, they said you two had a fight before you left. Some people said there was something going on between you two. And quite frankly, even though what Jury _might_ feel or have felt for me is disturbing–that's just... I mean, everyone always tells you it's not right. But what's _really_ not right is the fact of some tricky liar like you being with her– that absolutely disgusts me. So I hope she had the sense not to succumb to your charms. Jury is much smarter than I am. 

"But then, I am a liar too, right? So why would Jury care? Why does she care, and then avoid me, that's what I want to know." I shrug. "Maybe she likes liars, I don't know." 

I point at the stone, accusatorily, still needing to lecture the dead on their mistakes. "But one thing you don't know about her or me, you don't know how much we... we loved each other when we were children. A different love, a child's love. Does that love die or does it grow?" Two trees drop their leaves on Ruka-sempai's grave as tribute, same species, different type. "You don't know her, and you don't know me. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. And what really _sucks_ is..." 

Tears sting my eyes and I act as if it's the wind, even though there is no one else to see me. "What really _sucks_ is the fact that she still is the best thing that ever happened to me. And I hate her." I fall to my knees. I can't pretend not to cry anymore. "I _hate_ her, Sempai..." 

***** 

I am facing off against her once again. She gloats about her skills, she is convinced she will win. I am determined I will defeat her. I will not be weak. 

With a shout, we jump and lunge at one another. My eyes zero in on the black-petaled rose on her chest, I point the sword, and with a lurch against my hand, I feel the blade plunge, with a sharp, soft crunch, into the rose and through her chest. 

The problem is, the Duelist has done the exact same thing to me. 

***** 

Another lunch time by myself. I sit up against a tree, staring at its twisted roots coming out from under me. A purply leaf flits and flutters ever so delicately down to land on my bento box, next to half-eaten salad. 

My eyes scan the quad. Groups of girls sit and chatter about nothing, groups of boys poke at each other and brag. Over in the corner, a flash of white and blue and orange stand out against all the ordinary teals. Miki-san is standing over a seated Jury, saying something with a shy smile and then leaving. Even though he is the one erect, somehow she still seems taller. 

She is alone. 

Maybe she likes being alone. I'm sure she prefers it to most people's company. My company? 

This thought stirs my pride and anger and it's time to face her again and yet... At the same time, a memory fades into my mind's eye. 

A little six-year-old girl, a big ostentatious bow in her orange hair that would look horrid on anyone but her–even as a child, she could carry just about anything with grace. Sitting by herself, because although as Arisugawa Hiro's daughter she was respected, she was also untouchable. And me, who didn't know any better, went over, sat down right next to her, and asked her why she looked so sad. 

"I'm not sad," she said defiantly, setting her chin. 

"You looked sad," I said. A moment of silence. "I'm new, and I'm lonely," I admitted to her freely, because I knew immediately by looking at those sad green eyes, wide as the sea, that I could trust her forever and ever. "Would you like to be friends?" 

"Why do you look so sad?" I ask her as I sit down next to her. 

"I'm not sad," she replies, staring stubbornly at her food. I think she's trying to let her bangs shadow her eyes, but her curls are too well-trained to fall, and I can see the sea in them nonetheless. 

"You looked sad." I scrutinize her pensive frown and start to laugh, which makes her look at me, startled. "You haven't changed at all, Jury-san." 

She doesn't really know what to say to this, I guess, so she looks at my bento. "There's a leaf in your lunch," she observes. 

"It's pretty, isn't it?" This is a new game. 

She sighs, and she actually looks at me. "What do you want, Shiori?" 

I sigh in imitation of her. "I don't know, Jury. I want a lot of things. I want the usual things, I guess, friends, someone to love, my mother to fall off some place high"–(but not too high) –"a successful career, and a more interesting lunch than this one." I feel the venom suddenly summon itself to my teeth. "I'd also like you to get off your high horse for once." 

"Do you just do this to torture me?" 

I give her a mock-innocent smile. "Do what?" 

"Play innocent one minute and cruel the next." 

"Cruelty is usually a component of torture," I agree. "But innocence?" 

She closes her eyes and lets out a strange sort of choked laugh. "You have no idea." 

We sit silence a moment, not really moving. The wind blows the leaf out of my lunch box. 

"To answer your question, Jury-san, I don't know." 

"Hmm?" 

"I don't know what I want. I want to understand..." I start to say, but I can't finish. I can't hear my thoughts for the pounding in my ears, the idea of telling her all that's on my mind is so overwhelming. The idea that this time she might listen. 

More silence. I hope the bell rings so we can leave, and I pray this moment lasts so we can finish it. 

She tries to end it instead. "I have to go," she says and stands up. 

She's about to walk away, and the idea of her leaving me once again, having gone nowhere, launches me upward. I grab her wrist, choosing at random one of the many questions I have wanted to ask her. "Why did you stop wearing your locket?" 

She looks at me, and then away. Her eyes are hard, cold jewels again, but I see a ripple behind them that is something else. She does not yet try to move. 

"It was broken in a duel," she answers quietly. "Tenjou-kun struck it instead of the rose." 

I blink. 

I was in love with you. Was? 

She tries to pull away and I pull back. "So... if she hadn't broken it?" 

"I wouldn't have had to buy a new one." After her initial tension, she has managed to pull the mask all the way on and remain perfectly calm. It's driving me up the wall, because of course once again she's answered my questions without answering anything at all. 

"But... you're not wearing it." 

"I can't decide what picture to put in it." She's almost smiling. 

Damn her damn her damn her! Who is torturing who? Fire runs through me. I want to hit her, grab her face, make her look me in the face and say it. 

She tries to pull away again, slips away, but I manage to regain hold, this time of her hand. 

The touch, palm to palm, flesh to flesh, triggers a flash. My heart seems to stop a moment. A million memories surface all in this one moment, happy memories of little girls holding hands, anguished memories of her pulling away and telling me in strained tones that she hoped I'd be happy with him, doors slamming, swords flying out of chests, and the words, "I was in love with you," over and over again. 

She turns her head, granting my wish of looking me in the eye, and I wish she'd never done it. Her eyes are wide, the light playing with the blues and greens, pulling me into their depths. They looked like they did that one night, almost in tears... 

God damn her, she's so beautiful... 

And then as if Medusa had stared at her, her face turns to stone. She rips her hand away, and with it the fear and warmth that the touch brought. 

"I have council business to attend to." 

She walks away quickly. The lunch bell rings. 

I've got to understand why she does this dance with me. Why I am doing it with her. One step forward, two back. And for that, I've got to find a way to keep her from running away from me. Even if I could get in the same space with her, some place neutral. Nothing to do with anything. Make her endure my presence long enough that she might come to find it at least vaguely tolerable. 

And then maybe I can find a way to talk to her, and get this sorted out once and for all. We can become friends, we can become strangers, but we can't drift in this twilight forever. I can't imagine she enjoys it any more than I do. 

"Captain!" Another breathless voice sounds out behind me and then a young man zooms past out of nowhere, running after Jury. "Captain, I need to talk to you about the next meet..." 

He catches up with her and they disappear down one of the walkways crisscrossing the quad. 

That's it. 

I spend half of the afternoon after school trying to find her. Finally, out of breath from running around the campus, I pause to look inside the music room, where I hear piano playing, too lovely to be no one but Kaoru Miki-san. It's a pretty piece, kind of lighthearted, not the usual sad dreamy piece he plays that he and his sister are famous for writing. I carefully peek in. 

He cuts off abruptly. "That's all I have so far." 

"I like it," Jury replies; she's leaning against the piano. "Although maybe it's a little too... perky... in parts." 

"_She's_ a little too perky," he laughs, but asserts, "And the song is going to be about her." Though I've usually seen him defer to her on most things, this is his art, and like most artists, he gets slightly on the defensive when it is threatened. I wonder who he's talking about? I somehow had gathered he had a crush on Himemiya-san, and she's not perky at all. 

"I guess so. I think you could tone down that one part though." 

"She's not toned down! Look, do you want me to write the Arisugawa Song instead? Here we go..." He begins to play a slow, gloomy set of chords that sound as if they're intended to intone doomsday. I see her shoulders go up and down; she's trying not to laugh. 

My god, Arisugawa Jury laughing at herself. Isn't that the first sign of the Apocalypse? I bite back my own laugh, clapping my hand over my mouth, although I am too slow to hold myself back. They both turn and look at me. Jury immediately dons the mask. 

Bravery. Must summon bravery. 

"Sorry to bother you," I say, giving them a little smile. "I wanted to ask you something." 

"Jury-sempai? I could le-" 

"No, both of you, actually. Well, I might as well since you're both here. I know it's getting on in the semester, but... I've been thinking... I took it a little at my other school you see, and..." I take a breath, praying for coherency. I focus my will. "I want to try out for the fencing team." I let a little smile of triumph cross my face, just for having the guts to ask. 

Jury's eyes widen, although otherwise she forces her face to remain passive. 

Miki-san has no trouble looking surprised. "You fence, Takatsuki-san?" 

I nod. "I was on the fencing team at my other school. I've been told I have a lot of potential." I manage another smile, hopefully self-deprecating. "I'm not sure if that's true, or if the person who told me that was just trying to flatter me. But I did enjoy it." And that is the truth–it's quite a release, actually. You can "attack" someone all you want and never actually hurt them. You can engage in heart-pounding, fast-paced combat with someone and then shake hands afterward and go out for a sandwich together. 

All this... and if I can prove I belong on the team, Jury's too much of a professional not to let me join. Meaning there's at least one place she can't run away from me. I know I'll have to endure Jury defeating me on a regular basis, but maybe it will give me the time and insight I need to learn to get past her _other_ defenses. 

Besides, I've always liked watching her fence. 

"Fine," Jury says. I think I detect a waver in her half-frozen voice. "We'll see what you can do." 

"When?" 

She looks down at Miki-san. "Why not now?" 

Miki-san looks up at his sempai. "Sure, why not?" 

Jury gives me a cordial nod and a smile. "Get your gym clothes out of your locker–I doubt you want to try out in that skirt. Come to the fencing room and we'll lend you some gear. See you in a few minutes?" 

My god, I think there's a slight chance this might work. "Sure." 

Miki-san and Jury wait for me in that long room. God, so much has happened in that room in my life over the years, so many wonderful and horrible things. I remember once handing Jury a rose to reward her for winning a match with Miteru. "Believe in miracles," I told her, repeating something she'd once said to me when we were even younger, so long ago she'd probably forgotten. I remember at that moment wanting nothing more than for her to be happy. It was just before all my stupidity began. 

Believe in miracles, and they will know your true feelings. 

I am believing as hard as I can. If I can impress Jury... that's what it'll take. 

After the vest and mask are on, I am put through a gauntlet of lunges and jabs from Jury and Miki-san, each while the other one watches. It's been awhile, and I try to remember what I've been taught, and what I've learned from watching the experts over the years, Jury, Miteru, Ruka... all while trying not to think too hard... Miteru taught me when we were at Serian High School. 

"Trust in your instincts, your heart," he said. "It knows what it needs to do. It will lead your hand correctly." 

Sometimes, I think, it's a shame we never worked out. But our hearts were, and are, and always will be, elsewhere. 

Parry, riposte, feint, parry. Feint, lunge. 

I drive my foil towards her, flicking it past her blade toward her chest, aiming for the score... 

She's faster. The tip of her foil drives itself into my shoulder just a breath before I strike her. "Touché!" I announce for what seems to be the millionth time in the last few minutes. 

Jury pulls off her mask, shaking loose her curls. "You're right, Shiori," she says. "You have a lot of potential." She looks at me and then down at the foil in my hand. "Lesson number one: don't be so set on your offensive that you forget yourself." 

[Part III Notes: This is TV Shiori. She doesn't see dead people, but maybe she still talks to them. The epigraph is from Beth Orton's "Someone's Daughter," copyright 1997 Dedicated Records.] 


	4. For Questions

[Contains spoilers for Ep. 39] 

_Do you see–do you see–do you see  
How you hurt me baby  
So I hurt you too  
Then we both get so blue  
I am on a lonely road, and I am traveling  
Looking for the key to set me free  
Oh the jealousy, the greed is the unraveling–it's the unraveling  
And it undoes all the joy that could be  
I want to have fun, I want to shine like the sun  
I want to be the one that you want to see _

It's just a little while after classes, and I've just seen Kyoko off to a first date with her crush. Leaving my locker, I make my way down a shadowy hallway in one of the main academic buildings. It's long enough after school not one should be around, but at the other end of the corridor, a slender girl, probably in seventh or eighth grade, is leaning against a window, chin in her hand. Yes, I recognize her now: Kaoru Kozue, the sister of the boy Jury is friends with. 

Kaoru Miki, from what little I've been able to get to know of him, is a nice and utterly innocuous kid. His sister has a somewhat different reputation, involving strings of boyfriends (at the age of twelve!) and teachers being pushed down stairs. She her face is drawn downward into a sort of pensive frown as she is watching something in the quad, and I turn to see what it is, looking out a window near me. 

A game of lawn tennis is going on below, and of course my eyes immediately latch on to the tall, marigold-tressed girl serving the birdie to a younger pink-haired girl. Tenjou-kun volleys it to the third member of the game, Miki-san, perhaps for some reason the object of his twin's frown. They are laughing and saying something about Miki's being "in love" with someone and "changing my mind." Jury is smiling, and it's the first time I've seen her do that in so long. It's so beautiful, and I hate Miki-san and Tenjou-kun at that moment for being the ones who can make her look like that. 

She yells something to Tenjou-kun playfully, "Can I... picture... new pendant...?" I pick up. Fire surges through me, and I feel my face fold itself into a jealous scowl. How _dare_ you, I think at both of them, and I don't even know why. 

I never wanted to be the one in that stupid locket. I never did. My lip starts to tremble. 

I never... 

The happy little game is broken up by Kiryuu Touga's whiny little sister. Kiryuu-chan seems to be telling them all something to the effect that she thinks all three of them are nuts. 

They don't seem to mind. 

Jury is still smiling. The sun is dancing in her curls. She looks so free. 

Why am I jealous? 

I dig my fingernails into the hard windowsill. Why do I have to feel jealous of her? For her? 

God, how can I figure out what Jury wants when I don't even know what I want? 

Maybe... she's changed her mind. 

"Something bothering you?" A young female voice whispers close near my ear, close enough I can feel breath on my neck. I pull away a bit from the presence behind me and turn toward her. 

"Kozue-san, you startled me," I inform the girl. Her eyes are wide but her mouth rigid in a sort of smile: she's trying to look innocent, and yet conceal a smirk simultaneously. I can recognize it because I have three or four years experience on her trying to do the exact same thing. 

"You looked angry. It's not at my brother, is it?" Damn, she saw me frowning at them. 

I shake my head. "I hardly know him." 

"Tenjou-kun?" 

"She's a very nice person." I turn and look out the window again. Jury and Miki-san are walking away. Tenjou-kun says something to Kiryuu-chan and launches her birdie high toward the sky. 

"Ah, so it's Jury-san." She continues to talk to me, joining me in looking out my window. The sing-song tone of her voice indicates that she knew that's who it was from the start. 

"What would you know?" Has her brother told her something? What has Jury told Miki-san? 

She smiles, her deep azure eyes glinting in the sun coming from the window. "I heard them talking about you." 

"Me? Who?" 

"Jury-san and Oniisama and Utena-kun." 

I'm not interested I'm not interested I'm not interested... "Oh?" 

"Don't you want to know what they said?" 

Yes, of course I do. But I have no reason to bleed my fears all over this gossiping middle-schooler I hardly know. "Was it something bad?" 

"Do you consider love bad?" 

I shrug. "It depends." I can't think of anything else to say, I'm trying too hard to will my heart to stop beating so fast. I feel dizzy. 

"Do you think that she perhaps... has _feelings_ toward you?" 

"Jury doesn't _feel_ at all," I spit, still glaring out the window. I know it's wrong, but it feels good to say it. "I don't know if she has feelings." I look at her. "Why is it any of your business anyway?" 

She backs a little away from me, though shrugs nonchalantly. "Call it friendly interest." She cocks her head over to one side. "Call it... I feel jealous of that group too." 

I stare out the window. Jury and Miki-san have disappeared into one of the arches that lead into the other side of the building. Tenjou-kun says something to Kiryuu-chan and looks very pleased with herself–though somehow manages actually not be smug. She's a rare one, that Tenjou. 

I can feel Kozue-san awaiting my response. There's no reason I should give in to this... little psychopath. (Okay, that's harsh, but I _did_ hear she pushed teachers down stairs.) 

But then, what harm could it do? She could spread rumors about me. Big deal: vicious rumors have circled around me ever since Ruka's public breakup with me. Heck, maybe everyone thinks I'm a psychopathic slut too. 

Who knows, maybe she could understand? The idea of confession feels good though. Maybe it would work better if I did it with someone who was actually alive. 

"I am haunted, Kozue-san." Oh, that sounds cheesy. Oh well. 

"Oh?" Her voice rises, hoping for some juicy intrigue. 

"I am haunted by my past. Jury-san haunts me... and my self haunts me... what I used to be, everything that's made me and hates me, haunts me." I sigh and allow silence to fill a few breaths. "I have known Jury so long it's like she's a part of me, and yet I have no idea who she is at all. Her ghost hovers over my mind, reminding me of all the wonderful things she's done for me and accusing me of the horrible things I've done. But no matter how hard I try, how hard I try to separate us in real life, it just gets worse in my dreams..." 

"There are some bonds people can't break, no matter how hard you try," Kozue-san said, her voice suddenly soft. 

"So what do you do when you can't stand to be attached anymore?" 

She simply shrugs. "I don't know." She pauses and adds, "Do you really want to be detached from her?" 

I reach down into myself and pull out the honest answer, "No." 

She leans her hand on her chin, apparently thinking. Her face is quite serious, now. "Maybe you should find a different way to be attached." 

I shrug. "Yeah." Sure, that's easy." 

She shrugs. "Maybe I should try to find another way to be attached to Oniisama." 

I nod. "Maybe." It's nice that someone sort of understands, although... "It's a little different, I mean... Miki-san is your _brother_, not..." 

"Are you saying your feelings for Jury-san are more than sisterly?" 

Heat rushes to my face. "What? What the hell are you saying?" 

"You're blushing," she says, smiling, eyes glinting with mischief. Her serious mode is gone as quickly as it came.

I don't need to take this. I turn and start to walk away. Dammit, I was actually starting to feel better. 

"Shiori-sempai!" She calls out to me, and I turn back around, mostly because I am surprised by her sudden choice of address. "What she said was... 'Why can't I be free with my feelings?' Sounds like she wants to be free too... but maybe not in the way you think." 

***** 

The battle is intense. Parry, riposte, feint, parry. The ringing of the swords sound like funerary bells. Or wedding bells? 

The Duelist's sword scrapes my hand. I pull away, circling around the other side of the arena. 

The Bride watches impassively as usual, but as I circle, I near her, and I hear a concerned whisper behind me, "Be careful." 

My opponent catches the brief interchange, and her sneer twists more deeply into an infuriated snarl. "No!" she cries. "She's MINE!" 

She lunges toward me, fast, a blur of dark fuchsia. I turn and face her. If she succeeds, she'll stab both of us. And there's no reason for this innocent girl to be suffering from this fight any longer. I thrust out my sword, just flicking my opponent's blade away from my rose at the last moment. 

The Duelist stares at me in disbelief. "I-Impossible..." The sword suddenly refuses to cooperate with her hand. 

"You are weak!" I accuse my opponent. "You cannot destroy us both!" 

Her eyes widen in fear, and the sword she holds clatters to the ground. "Do it, then. Get it over with. I am weak. You can destroy me." 

All of her bravado gone, she is trembling like a captured bird. She is not wearing her Duelist's uniform any more, but an ordinary teal sailor-fuku. She is a scared little girl, and that's all she ever was–desperately masking her fear with the power she got from someone else's sword. The thrill of victory rushes over me, and I grin, poking the tip of the sword just a little into her chin... and then I notice my wrist is adorned by the cuff of a Duelist's jacket. The sword in my hand has an intricate gold hilt; it is a fine, slender French dueling sword. 

No. 

"No!" 

I force myself to turn, a pivot that takes about a hundred years, and with aching arms I hold the sword out to the Bride. "This is yours." 

She frowns a mechanical frown. "Why? I am yours." 

"No. I cannot win with someone else's sword. You have to... you have to let me fight by myself," I insist. I hold it out to her again. 

She reaches out, but at the last moment, her hand falters, and the blade falls from both our grips. As it falls point first, it strikes precisely a golden chain wrapped around the Bride's ankle and breaks it, and she and the sword waver and fall away into blackness below. 

"You idiot!" "I" scream behind me. "How are we going get a miracle without her?" I turn around. She is on her knees shaking, head in her hands, sobbing. 

I walk toward her and reach out, taking the rose pinned to her chest and handing it to her. "Believe in miracles, and they will know your true feelings." 

Then the entire arena crumbles, and we slip... 

Into consciousness. 

I feel warm and cold all at once. My heart is pounding. Did I do it? Did it work? Will she come back? Will the Bride be okay? Is the power of Miracles safe? 

Well, not that I'd be the one to find out. But somehow, I reached out to it, just for a moment, before I awakened... 

That makes no sense. I shake my head, waking up more. I am shaking. Even as the vivid images from the dream wear off, all of the fear, love, anger, joy I felt still swim through me. 

I know I'm not going back to sleep for awhile. I'm almost afraid to, in case I have the dream again and learn my victory was simply a ruse. 

Yet a warm spot in my heart promises that won't happen again. My mind is less easily convinced. 

Time for another walk. 

The air is much warmer than the last time I did this, and wetter. It smells green; the ground is soggy and sloppily snuggles my feet as I trudge through the yard. Apparently a thunderstorm has come and passed by, cleansing the campus of its tense, heavy atmosphere. 

I am starting to feel good, up until the point I reach the fountain, because she is there again. 

And she looks utterly miserable. Her sea-colored eyes are searching the water in the fountain for an answer she can't find. Her shoulders are slumped. She looks... weak. And every person I have ever been, the innocent child, the inadequate adolescent, the jealous misfit, the selfish friend, the confused and determined sixteen-year-old... all shout that Jury should not feel weak. And that it's my turn to do something about it. 

What, I don't know yet. 

Part of me observes I should feel happy that she looks so miserable. The more horrible thought is the idea that I don't feel happy because I don't think I caused the misery. I close my eyes, and hand a mental rose to those ugly voices in the back of my mind. You will not get the better of me this time. It's my turn to be the strong one. 

I will not have her walk away from me again. But I will not hurt her again, either. 

Not... the feeling/thought rises like a welcome explosion through my brain... not while she needs me. 

She needs me. 

I don't think anyone in the world has ever needed me before. 

She looks up startled, when I sit beside her–she didn't even notice my approach. 

"Shiori..." is all she says. Her eyes are wide. Sad? Frightened? The mask is actually down, but it's still hard to read her. 

"What's wrong, Jury?" 

She blinks at me for a few minutes, her lips pursing, then opening slightly like she's about to speak, then pursing again. She looks down at the waters of the fountain. "Tenjou-kun... Utena... was taken to the hospital." She speaks very quiet, controlled, but I can hear her voice the pressure of her emotions threatening to detonate her cool. 

"My god!" That's two people now I once thought invincible proven otherwise. 

"Someone stabbed her–completely ran her through–Shiori," she said, her voice wavering just a little more. "It's hard to tell... but as a Duelist... as someone experienced with a sword... I think... someone stabbed her in the back." 

I realize Jury must have found her, or was at least one of the people who found her. I try to imagine Tenjou-kun, that happy-go-lucky girl, always fiercely defending her friend–I mean, she's been up against _Ruka's_ sword, and Jury's, not to mention all those other Council members– crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, bleeding. And Jury finding her friend in that state. Jury... who despite all her coldness and her pride... does care about her friends. 

Jury clenches her fists, but then starts to laugh, a desperate wounded laugh. "But the damn rose was intact." She bites her lip. "So what the hell does that mean? Did she win or lose? If she dies, does that mean she didn't get the power of miracles? Or did she?" She hits the edge of the fountain with her fist. The garden lights are enough to show that she's struck the cement hard enough to lacerate her hand. 

"Beating yourself up isn't going to help, Jury." 

"Well what the hell can I do?!" she shouts, and I involuntarily scoot back from her fire. She sees me back away from her, and stops saying whatever it is she's about to say. "Sh-Shiori..." She looks down and shakes her head. "Why am I telling you this?" 

"Because you wouldn't let anyone else see you like this. I've already seen you angry and sad often enough, even if it's been awhile. And you need... to talk to someone, Jury." 

She blinks at me, and seems about to retort something, and then visibly slumps again. She knows I'm right, I think. I hope I'm right. 

I move back toward her. 

"She's not dead yet, Jury. So don't kill her off in your mind before her time comes. Tenjou-kun is strong. In body and heart, she's strong. So you just have to believe-" 

"There are no such things as miracles!" She turns and shouts–no, snarls is more like it. The mask is off, and there is more pain than I ever wanted to see in those gorgeous turquoise eyes. 

Did finding Tenjou do that to her? 

Or did I? 

She is breathing heavily, anger and anguish and fear bleeding off of her in the form of trembling heat. Her jaw is clenched. The "panther," as some people call her, has come out, trying to protect her. I should be frightened, but suddenly, I'm not. 

Because this _isn't_ some felinid ice queen. This is _Jury_, with the sad, lonely eyes I can trust forever and ever. 

And at that moment, I can only think of one thing to do. Had I thought of it yesterday, it would have frightened me. Had I thought of it a month or more ago, it would have repulsed me. Had I thought of it a year ago, it would have seemed an impossibility. Had I thought of it ten years ago, it would be the most natural and easy thing in the world to do. 

Now it's hard... and the only thing I can do. Part of me reminds me she may well throw me across the quad if I try it. 

I scoot close to her and reach around her shoulders and give her a hug. 

She tenses, of course. She starts to pull away for a minute, and I try to hold on, and then she pushes herself forward and lets herself slide to the ground. Somehow, my hands are still on her shoulders. 

This wouldn't work, of course, so I start to pull my arms away– 

And then she leans her head against my side. I place one hand on the other side of her head, and she does not resist. I start to smooth her hair, the way people do, friends and lovers and sisters, when they are trying to comfort someone and don't know what to say. 

"Why?" the question is barely breathed out of her mouth. 

"Because you used to do it for me," I tell her. "And because, I think, if I really needed it, you'd do it for me again." 

Under my hands, I can feel she's shaking a little. Probably, I think if I were the one in her position, somehow I'd be crying my eyes out. But Jury never cries. I stroke her hair a bit. It's slightly damp, either from rain or a shower. 

She lets out a deep breath, and says quietly. "I don't understand you, Shiori." 

"That makes two of us. I don't understand me at all." 

Her shoulders abruptly go up and down, perhaps in imitation of a laugh. We sit, not speaking for a few minutes. The air is filled with Jury's pain and my nervousness, but it still feels less tense than it has been with her for ages. 

"God, I am so selfish," she suddenly says. 

"Wha- why?" 

"Tenjou-kun is in the hospital and I'm thinking about you and me." 

I'm not quite sure what I should say to this. I remember what Kozue-san told me earlier today, but that's... that's not what I'm worried about. For once. In fact, that whole scene I completely forgot until now, and it just seems... stupid, all I was feeling then. I feel better now. The only frustration that comes is from trying to think of something to say. "What would Tenjou-kun want you to be thinking about?" 

"I..." She looks up at me and then down again, and starts to laugh without much sound. She shook her head. "She always yelled at me... when I tried to ignore you..." 

"Oh?" 

"She reminded me... how important friendship was." 

And I didn't? Pride asserts. Shut up, I tell it. I destroyed our friendship, Guilt says. Shut up, I tell it. I'm here now. 

"Tenjou-kun... struck me as the kind of person, who would be a good friend. She was the first person to show me kindness when I came back here," I tell her. "I was jealous of her... when I saw her make you smile. I missed being able to do it." 

"Why'd you try so hard to hurt me then?" Her voice thins to a whisper. 

I shift myself off the edge of the fountain and join her on the ground. She lets me slide my arm around so I can wrap it around her shoulder. 

I laugh. "'Cause I hate you, Jury. I hate that you're so much better than me and that compared to you I am _nothing_. The only thing that made me something was you. And mostly, because I'm afraid of you... afraid somehow I'll fall apart when I'm around you..." 

"Do you know how ridiculous that is?" 

I shrug. "Maybe. Do you know how ridiculous we've both been to each other?" 

"Yeah." 

"Maybe we should try stopping." 

"And then what?" 

I shrug. "I haven't got that far yet." 

A few more moments of silence, as I pray to the gods and the stars and the fountain and Tsuchiya-Sempai and the Miracle Power everybody fights for to come up with the right thing to say. "You know what I think?" I ask her. 

"What?" 

"Tenjou-kun is going to make it." 

"Why?" 

"Because she was fighting for her friend, right? Himemiya-san?" 

"How'd you know that?" 

I shake my head. "I just remember... her looking very protective when she fought, I guess." 

Jury nods. "Yes, she was fighting for Himemiya Anthy." 

"And friendship makes you strong. Tenjou-kun is strong, Jury. I think she'll make it." 

"Then why did she get hurt at all?" 

"I didn't say it made you invincible," I say, maybe too defensively. "She is human, after all. But..." I shake my head. This is going nowhere, fast. "I don't know, Jury. I just don't know. I just don't think you should confine Tenjou-kun to a coffin before her time has come." 

"I just wish I could do something. But... I guess, it's still her Duel to fight." 

"Just believe in her, Jury. You have to believe. Sometimes... that's all you can do." 

"I guess so," she says. She turns her head and looks at me. Her eyes are wide. By a small miracle, the mask is still gone. I see the friend I loved years ago in childhood and a young woman I'm only just starting to get to know. Her eyes lock with mine, their ocean-colored depths pouring into me. Her face moves a centimeter closer to mine, and my heart jumps to warp speed. 

She closes her eyes and pulls away from me. Her fists clench. "I don't know if we can be friends, Shiori," she mutters, not looking at me. 

"We have to become friends before we become anything else," I say, words falling out of my mouth before I think about what they mean. 

She sits there, eyes closed, not looking at me. 

"Come on Jury, do you think if we get close again the world is going to end?" 

Suddenly, she starts to laugh. I mean, really laugh. Almost hysterical... well, for Jury at least. I mean, she's someone who usually lets out a brief chuckle responding to the height of hilarity. After a few moments of wired laughter, she looks at me, eyes glassy, and says, "You know, Shiori, I think it already has." 

[Part IV Notes: This episode's header comes from "All I Want" by Joni Mitchell, copyright Warner Brothers Records.] 


	5. For You

[This takes place during the epilogue of ep. 39] 

_While you occupy me I command my dreams each day   
To bring you in me even thinly as the morning chases you away   
I half believe if I just picture us we will come true   
Wishful thinking or my dreams sinking half depends on you   
Why don't we both agree we're both afraid and too afraid to say   
If I count to three and move toward me would you meet me half the way? _

After that strange encounter, things slowly start to get a little better. I made the fencing team, and Jury regularly kicks my ass, and I don't care. I'm actually starting to have fun. I do want to prove myself to her, in so many ways, but... I realize, she only expects me to do my best. And maybe my best can be good enough for me, too. 

And we have conversations. Actual, civil, friendly conversations, from time to time. None as long or in-depth as the one we had the night by the fountain, but not so strained and fake–or tumultuous–as they often were before that night. She even initiates conversations with me from time to time, and I no longer have the urge to turn her away before she might actually make me care again. 

Because I already do. And that doesn't seem to bother me much. 

And it's not just about our old friendship. It's the feelings from that that made me want to try again (that's why I came back to Ohtori, after all), but it's more, too. It's something new, because we've both changed a little. 

But it's growing really slowly. 

And the "something new" doesn't always help. 

She's still holding onto something. 

And I'm getting tired of waiting for her to let go so we can move on. 

"Next!" Captain Arisugawa shouts. My cue. 

"Yes!" I answer her, stepping forward for the twice-weekly test of shame. 

Parry riposte parry feint lunge. 

"Touché!" I announce after what seems to be only a few seconds. 

"You're not focusing your center of balance properly." 

"Yes, Captain!" 

"Next!" She calls out. I join the ranks of the defeated and go through a few bouts with them. 

A second before I strike true against Hikaru-kun, Jury places her hand on my shoulder. I pull off my mask so I can see her better. 

"Shiori, your center of balance is lower than that. Let me show you." I nod, and she places her hands on my hips. "You should feel it in between here... so you can shift your weight like this." She gently but firmly guides my lower torso forward and back. "See?" 

I feel it, but I'm watching her face, eyelids lowered, concentrating on what she's doing. Faint beads of sweat are on her face, exertion from practice. Her eyes flicker upward and meet mine. She holds my gaze for a minute, and she suddenly doesn't look like the Captain. 

She steps backward suddenly, and then she frowns, "Do you understand?" 

"Yes," I tell her, trying not to smirk. She dons the Mask of the Captain, which works well except it can't hide the fact that she's... 

Blushing? 

"What was that about?" Hikaru-kun asks me. 

I put my fencing mask back on before my face does something stupid. "About losing your balance, I think. En garde." 

"Miki-san, I'll help clean up. I think your sister's waiting for you." 

"But she's-" the blue-haired boy starts to protest, and I give him a glare. It's not the Arisugawa Icy Glare of Death, but it will do. He gets the picture. "Oh, right," he nods. "I forgot." Smart boy, that Miki. He quickly leaves. 

I help Jury put spare foils away in the storage locker. We're the only ones left in the room. She's not looking at me, and it starts to feel tense, like it used to. 

"Dammit, Jury, what the hell is with you?" 

She looks at me, her eyes dancing between frustration and something else... regret? "I-" She sighs. "I'm sorry, Shiori. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable earlier today." 

I shake my head. "I wasn't. You're the one who seems uncomfortable, Jury." The ghost of Ruka smirks at me in my mind's eye. Liar liar liar. Okay, so I am uncomfortable. But I'm tired of this. 

Something has to change. Now. 

She shuts the storage locker and stares at the latch. "Shiori..." 

"Yes?" I prompt her after a few moments of silence. 

"We can never be what we were in the past." 

"I don't want to be what we were in the past. I'm not twelve anymore, Jury! Things have changed. We can change..." I trail off as she looks at the floor and rubs her eyes so I can't see them. 

"Shiori..." she says again. She's acting weird and closed off, and I don't know what I've done wrong this time. 

"That is my name," I agree. "What is it, Jury?" 

She drops her hand and looks at me, eyes glittering with a strange mix of frustration and amusement. "Ruka was right. You are pushy." 

When did he call me that? No, don't get distracted. I cross my arms. "Don't avoid the subject." 

She shakes her head and closes her eyes, wearing a strange smile. "Pushy, egotistical, and... something else. Selfish, I think." 

What the hell is she doing? Has she just been playing with me? Condescending to _that_ kind of level seems... The fire builds. I throw my arms out and push her against the storage locker door. "What are you getting at, Jury?" I thrust my chin upward, close to her face, so she has to face me. 

Her eyes are wide in shock, and then they slowly soften... and sadden. 

"I'm sorry, Jury, I didn't mean to hurt you," I ramble off. I mean it; she pissed me off but I didn't mean to get literally pushy. "I just want to know what you feel..." I trail off, looking at her eyes, turbulent like the ocean. 

That strange smile she was wearing a minute ago comes back. She tilts her head downward slightly, so as to look me in the eyes even better. It almost looks like she's about to- 

Oh my god, is she going to kiss me? 

Don't you dare, Jury. 

Please do. 

Don't. Please. 

Oh, what am I thinking anyway? Even if she was still attracted to me, Jury would never- 

Oh. My. God. 

Soft, warm, gentle lips brush against mine in a pure, slow gesture. 

Jury is kissing me. 

What? I push myself away, startled by the reality of the situation. Perhaps I shouldn't be, but I never actually expected it to really happen. I never thought I would ever actually have to _deal_ with this. 

I guess I was merely hoping not to have to deal with how I would feel in return. 

But if we have to change... if we have to move past where we've been... if we're ever to move forward, break the walls, the chains that are trapping us... 

Jury's eyes widen in horror as she's staring at me and she backs away from me. "Oh my god," she says, clapping her hand to her mouth and abruptly turning. Leaning against the wall, she starts to walk away. 

I don't understand. Then I realize I must have looked pretty freaked. 

She's walking away from me again. No. My pounding heart says I can't let this happen. Not after all this... 

I will not lose her. 

"Jury!" I lunge for her and try to grab her arm, but she pulls away. 

"Leave me alone!" she pleads. She's trying to keep her head turned away from me, although I can tell her face is red. 

"No!" 

"Please," she says, or more whimpers, and then she seems to lose her legs, crumbling to the floor, covering her face with her hand, still leaning against the wall for support. The strength that usually seems to constantly flow through her has just run out. Her whole body is quaking. 

She's crying. At one point I think I would have paid to see this. Now I just want her to stop, and be... and be Jury again. 

I kneel down beside her. 

"I'm sorry, Shiori..." she whispers. 

"Why?" I ask softly. 

She pulls her hand halfway down her face so she can look at me sideways. Her face has gone from red to pale, and her eyes are shimmering with tears. 

"Dammit, Jury." I put my hand on her shoulder to keep her from replying. "You're even beautiful when you cry. How do you _do_ that? Every time I cry I get all puffy and look like I'm all drugged out." 

She drops her hand. Now she's just looking at me like I'm insane, and she may well be right. 

I move my hand from her shoulder to her cheek, gently wiping tears away with my thumb. Her skin is smooth. "I'm sorry, Jury... you just... scared–startled me. But I guess... I scared you, too. But Jury, why should I be afraid of you? After all this? It's silly." 

She's just staring at me now, wide eyed, setting herself for whatever insult or praise, feint or lunge I may use to attack her with. 

I wipe another tear and look at those wide, helpless, strong eyes. "So pretty..." 

My heart is so loud I can barely hear myself speak, so I stop talking. 

On impulse, I lean forward and kiss another tear off her cheek. She doesn't move, though this close I can feel her breath, feel its warmth against my hair. In fact, I feel warmth everywhere, inside myself and coming from her, I'm so close to her. 

Don't you dare, Shiori! The voice of fear puts in one last protest. And I finally can ignore it. Because I know if I don't do this now, I will never get the chance again. And I do not want to live the next few years of my life in regret. I've had enough of that. But it will take a miracle... 

Believe in miracles, and they will know your true feelings. 

I lower my face, already so close to her, and I touch my lips to hers. It's tentative at first, and I feel like I might fall apart at any moment. She's still frozen at first, but then the gaze of the gorgon reduces. She relaxes, relents, and then I feel her put one arm around me, pulling me in close. Her fingers glide through my hair as she kisses me back. It's warmer and more passionate than anything I've felt in my life. Her skin, her lips, so soft and delicate and determined. 

I wonder what kind of sick freak could ever think contact like this could be wrong? 

I am such a fool. 

After a few moments lighted by a warmth I have not felt in forever, we come up for air, and her eyes move over my face. She shakes her head. "Damn you, Shiori." Her eyes are still glassy, and she looks halfway between laughing and crying. 

"Why?" 

"Do you know how many times I've convinced myself I'm over you? And then, just as I think I can move on without you, you look at me, and smile, and say something wonderful like 'believe in miracles' or 'friendship makes you strong,' or... or 'dammit Jury, what the hell is with you,' and I fall in love with you all over again." She sighs. "And now... it's going to take forever for me to get over this." 

I smile. "Good," I whisper and kiss her cheek, and let my face linger just a millimeter above hers. Her eyelashes tickle my face. 

"What do you want from me, Shiori?" she whispers in my ear, in a different kind of desperation than before. It sounds the way she looked at me when I grabbed her hand a few months ago during lunch. 

"Nothing," I answer her, honestly and truly. Be proud of me, Sempai. I shift my weight a little so I can crawl in close to her more comfortably. 

My heart's still beating fast, but I feel warmer, fuller than I have before. Even being so close to her, I feel much more myself. 

I am still frightened, and I have no idea what I'm doing. But I guess... that's what change is about. 

She is waiting for more of an answer than what I have given her. I close my eyes, digging inside for a deeper answer. 

"I want to... to love you, Jury." I shift my head back to look in her eyes. 

"Really?" Her eyes widen, and for a minute, she looks like a... a schoolgirl. 

"Yeah. So show me." I kiss her again. 

She kisses me back briefly but then gently pushes my shoulders back to look at me. With one hand she smoothes my hair. "I don't know if I can, but..." She smiles and shakes her head. "I love you." 

I think I hear bells outside. Or maybe my ears are just ringing, I'm not sure. 

"It's taken you what, three years to say that, hasn't it?" 

"Probably closer to four years." She leans forward and continues the kiss. She pulls me closer, running one hand through my hair. 

I squeeze her tight, letting the last of my fear melt into the tender radiance of her lips. She pulls me in more deeply, and I taste her, feel her like I never imagined I would. It is something entirely new, and it is more right than what I've felt in what seems like forever. 

There really are bells ringing outside. 

Finally, we are free. 

[Part V Notes: And they lived happily ever after until the end of time, or until more teen angst threatened to screw them up, or until the forces of darkness threatened to separate them, whichever comes first. Wow! This was really long! I don't know if it was too detailed (or not enough?), but I found writing this a hell of a lot of fun. Constructive comments and criticism are always welcome. Oh yeah, and this chapter's header comes from the song "You've Got to Show" written by Emily Saliers (of the Indigo Girls), copyright 2002 by Sony Music.] 


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